


Beast of Burden

by FoxxGlove



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Catholic Guilt, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd Needs a Hug, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, First Time, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Minor Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, My Unit | Byleth Has Emotions, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sad Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Sloppy Makeouts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vaginal Sex, sex to cope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29812887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxxGlove/pseuds/FoxxGlove
Summary: Byleth struggles to cope after losing her father and though his heart was in the right place, Dimitri makes the mistake of offering to help her cope.  Her needs are not what he had hoped, but a part of him enjoys her request.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 7
Kudos: 47





	Beast of Burden

The days after Byleth lost Jeralt were some of the most difficult. Dimitri felt this burning desire to avenge his Professor. He wanted to bury his spear into the body of that wretched Monica. He knew it wasn’t what she wanted though, not right now at least. She’d still been teaching class even through her tears. It pained him to see her in such a state; weak and distanced, she didn’t meet anyone’s gaze when speaking and she seemed so very far away.

He caught her in passing here and there, but since that terrible day at the cathedral, Dimitri had seen little of his Professor. Mostly she stayed in her room except when she’d insisted she go to the classroom. She had a glassy look in her eyes and her nose was tinted red raw from cold and sorrow. He wished he could make her pain go away, but he knew as well as anyone else, it would never go away entirely, it would just get easier to manage. Knowing that truth made him hurt even more as he ate his dinner without her. He’d grown accustomed to their meals together. After a few months of some hesitant interest she’d suggested they perhaps be more than friends. He had loved those secret kisses and though their intimate time was still new, he missed it dearly.

The chef had made his favorite, but without her to converse with the food tasted merely of sand. He kept his eyes at the doorway, hoping by some miracle that she might come in any second. He hoped, maybe they would talk and enjoy the evening, but he knew it was a fruitless effort. He’d experienced the pain she suffered and he knew it would be some time before she could return to any state of normal. The thought of her crying alone in her room made his stomach twist into knots.

He pushed his food around his plate, trying to think of anything he could do to make her suffering just a bit easier. The cook had made a lovely cake and there were still two slices left. It couldn’t hurt, he thought as he picked up the two plates and made his way to her dormitory.

It was late, and the chill of winter made it only seem darker as he followed the familiar path to her door. He’d walked her home countless times after late night tea and studying. It was safest at night, no prying eyes could catch them as long as they were careful. He hadn’t been called out for it yet so he hoped they were cautious enough, either that or no one minded their relationship.  
He took a deep breath and knocked on her door, hoping he wouldn’t be turned away. His eyes wandered to the sky. It was cloudy and the cover of fog had sealed away even the light of the stars and moon. The faint glow of a candle through the frosted window in her room did little to help him see.

If he hadn’t heard the sound of the lock unlatching he wouldn’t have known anyone was inside. She hadn’t said a word, simply unlocked the door. He swallowed the lump in his throat and opened the door, closing it behind him quickly so as not to let the chilly night air in.

He scanned the room. He knew she opened the door, but she wasn’t anywhere to be seen.  
“Professor— I” he mulled over his word choice, he didn’t want to frighten her, but he was deathly worried for her safety. She had existed in a sort of numbed state, but in the last few weeks he had seen her alight with emotion. “I wanted to check on you.” He held the cake slices on his plate and found her desk, cluttered in papers and trash. The Professor was no stranger to mess, but the disarray of her space made him freeze. An ink bottle had been tipped over and a thin trail of black ink had seeped into the open pages of a white magic tome. He moved the book, stiff and rigid with the black stain. He placed the cakes down and took a deep breath. The air was thick with sadness and he felt a chill in the room. The window and doors were closed shut, but still that icy feeling crept over him. He was all too familiar with sorrow‘s embrace.  
“Professor?”

He heard a soft sniffling sound and he turned to look for the source. The room was dark, but it was a small space and there were only so many places she could be hiding. He scanned the room, straining to make out the shadows in her living quarters. He heard the sniffle again and sighed, as he realized where the noise was coming from. He knelt down and carefully approached the lump of blankets hiding under the desk.

“There you are, Professor.” He didn’t want to frighten her, but he was relieved to see her in one piece. The darkness hid her features from sight, but even so he could make out her lavender eyes, stained with tears, and puffy with sadness. “We were all worried about you.” He cautiously scooted forward and reached out his hand for her. “I was worried about you.”  
He saw the distant look in her eyes as he met her gaze and he swallowed his words. Perhaps it was a mistake to come, but he needed to know she would be okay.

“I understand exactly what you’re going through, Professor. I want you to know that it is okay to grieve. And— more importantly, it is okay to grieve in whatever way you need.” She hadn’t taken his hand so he pulled it back. It was wishful thinking to assume she might want his company, but as soon as he pulled it back, he watched her scoot over.

“Stay.”

It was only one word, but based on the strain in her voice, he knew it had to be hard for her to speak. He nodded and moved into the space she’d made at her right side. He heard her sniffle again and now, being so close to her, he could clearly see tears streaming down her cheeks. She trembled as she cried and he felt a heaviness in his chest as he heard her whimpers of pain.

Jeralt was the last of her family and now that he was gone, she had no one.

Her grief mirrored his as he recalled his family, lost in an instance. He blinked his eyes closed and his brows furrowed in frustration, now was not the time— he needed to be strong for her.  
“I will stay. And—“ he paused before continuing, hoping he could choose the words carefully so as not to push her away, “If there’s anything I can do for you to make things even just a bit better, please do not hesitate.” He breathed deeply and listened to her struggle to hold her composure.  
“You don’t have to be brave, Professor—“ he trailed off and realized he may have said too much. Her breaths were staggered and he feared she might begin to cry again. To his surprise she spoke, but the words were muffled and strained, and the more she insisted on repeating the phrase, the more her words burned.

“Shut up Dimitri.”

She said it again and again, but Dimitri didn’t budge. There was something off about her tone. She was angry, but there was no hostility in his name. He fell silent and turned his head to look at her. She had almost become one with her blanket and he heard her sniffle again.

He took a deep breath and prepared himself for if she pushed him away, but to his surprise she didn’t budge. He reached an arm around her body and pulled her close to him. She was practically limp as she sunk against his side. He reached his other hand to her and pushed the blanket aside, revealing her unkempt blue hair. Her eyes were red and puffy, but through the sorrow Dimitri could easily make out the unmistakable face of his Professor.

She blinked her eyes shut and then spoke, her voice still shaking with tears. “Why don’t you just leave?”

He shook his head and held her close as he began to brush through her hair with his fingers.  
“I think you need me. Even if you don’t want me to talk.” His hand rested on her cheek and he brushed a tear away. He heard her sniffle and watched as she rubbed the tears from her eyes. He took her hand and held it in his, his thumb rubbed over her knuckles and judging by the wince that followed he could only assume she had punched something pretty hard. “My apologies-- I did not mean to hurt you.”

He felt her body tremble and was surprised when she wrapped her arms around him. “I do need you, Dimitri—“ she struggled to push the words out, but continued, stumbling over each word until she forced them out. “But I need something from you—“

He could smell the sting of wine of her breath. She was no stranger to drinking, but he doubted the alcohol did little to help with her crying. He’d done the same as he grew older, turned to liquor to numb the agony of loss, but it was never worth it. In the moment though, the sweet burn on his tongue was a welcome change to the bitter sense of loss he felt when the deaths of his family danced in front of his vision like a nightmare.

He looked at her and his brows knitted with worry. He needed to know she was okay-- he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and nodded. “Anything, Professor. Whatever it is—“

He felt her lips collide with his and the room began to spin. The force of her mouth on his shook any hold he had on the situation. Her kiss was dripping with need and hunger, her breath was hot and stung with wine and only the taste of salty tears at the corner of her mouth reminded him of the current state. It felt wrong to kiss her in this private space, but his body refused to let him question his decision. His hands found her hips and he kissed her back with the same urgency, parting her lips for his greedy tongue that hoped and begged he could single-handedly end her grief.

Through ragged breaths he heard the beginning of tears again. She pushed him away and looked him in the eyes. He stared into her wide lavender eyes and trembled. Had it been a test? Was she disgusted with his behavior? His hand slid down her back as he realized his mistake.  
He watched as she closed her eyes and tears began to flow once again.

“D-Dimitri please—“ she blinked her eyes closed, unable to look at him. He felt her body collapse into his and he caught her, holding her to him as he rubbed her back through the blanket. He felt her warm breath on his ear and he felt as her body trembled weakly. She was drunk; the aching sorrow of loss had become too much to bear sober. He wished desperately that he could pull her back to the surface of reality, but he’d been in her position before-- alone and with no one to help carry the burden of his pain; he needed to be there for her.

He pushed himself up and scooted out from under the desk. He reached for her hand and this time she took it. Her skin felt icy cold to the touch and the chill made him tremble. It was as if Death’s kiss had taken hold of her.

“Professor please.” He squeezed her hand and pulled her to her feet, seadying her with his hands as best as he could. “Tell me— how can I help?” His voice was low and pleading, begging for her to just tell him.

Her silence was deafening and he pulled her into a tight embrace, her head resting against his chest as he breathed deeply. She sniffled and took a gasping breath before she blurted out the words she’d been begging to say, “I don’t want to feel sad— I just want— to feel—“ she took another gasping breath before looking up at him. “Dimitri— help me feel—“

He froze and processed what she’d asked of him. She needed him, physically and though the idea should have excited him, he felt a numbness in his chest. He’d dreamed of the day he might lay in her bed and they would share the evening together— this was far from what he’d imagined. Her eyes were red and glazed with alcohol, her cheeks stained with tears that never ceased; everything was wrong. He felt her hand on his arm and looked down at her. She looked so defeated, beaten down by sorrow’s embrace. She’d been grieving for days and he wondered if this was the first time she’d felt genuine sadness in her life.

He hadn’t known her before the monastery, but she’d spoken to him about her slowly developing emotions. He had been surprised when she shared she’d never cried before, that she had never truly felt an intense emotion, that he had awoken these new feelings within her and that it was thanks to him that she could smile at last. He grimaced, the image of her soft pink lips forming a smile for the first time was burned into his memory forever-- a smile intended for only him.

Now here she was, drowning in her own agonizing misery. He nodded slowly and reached down to hold her cheek in the palm of his hand. He wanted none of it to be real, he wanted to hold her and listen as she hummed while grading papers, and sip tea together in the garden, and kiss her on the forehead as they said goodnight. He wanted to erase this developing memory from his thoughts, but then she would only be left with the memory of that night her beloved student, friend, and companion could not even do the simplest kindness and help her feel better. He felt his stomach turn as he let the words fall from his mouth “I’m here for you, Professor.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, drinking in her bitter sadness as he held her close. He blinked his eyes closed, preparing himself for whatever she needed.

He felt her mouth on his and she pushed against him. His hands found the curve of her hip under the blanket and he blushed feeling the bare flesh of her waist. He could have sworn he’d felt the blanket before when he’d held her under the desk, but it didn’t matter. Despite her skin feeling almost clammy to the touch, he greedily explored her body with wandering hands. He knew he should push her away, leave her be and not indulge, but he couldn’t bear to see her in this state, and though it made him sick to think about it, a small part of him enjoyed the attention she gave him.

He swallowed hard and felt a pain in his chest. This wasn’t what he wanted, but the burning ache he felt in his groin had enjoyed the sloppiness of her kiss. He hated that though his heart wanted to hold her and ward off the wicked thoughts, his body wanted to devour her and feel every curve of her vulnerable body against him. He wanted to ravage the sorrow out of her and leave her wanting more. He wanted to dry up her tears and replace them with a newfound wetness between her legs. He wanted her and knowing that no matter how drunk and needy she was, she wanted him too made him feel hot and so very thirsty.

Her arms wrapped around him and he held her close to him, his kisses growing more needy as she pressed her body to his. He could taste the salt of a tear as it trickled into the corner of her mouth but instead of brushing it away as he’d done before, he lapped it up with desperation, like an animal parched with thirst.

He felt her hands rest on his rear and the sensation of her touch pushed his hips forward. He collided with hers and it forced a groan out from between his lips. He could feel his pants growing tighter around his groin as he roused to life. His body felt only the need that lingered under her clammy touch. Her kisses taste like sorrow. Her hands squeezed his cheeks and she pushed him closer to her, begging him wordlessly to continue.

He felt the tiniest hint of a smile creep over his lips.

The sensation made him sick, but his body hungered for her. He let go of the hold on her hips and let a hand drift below the blanket, struggling blindly to find her in the maze of fabric. He felt her thighs, bare, and chilled to the touch despite being covered by heavy winter wool and he hoped and he prayed, that the cold had not tampered with the sweet warmth he had dreamed of between her legs.

He’d spent countless nights, dreaming of the feeling of her body— hot, alight with pleasure with excitement as his clumsy hands explored her for hours on end. He dreamed of planting kisses all over her body, and letting his lips linger on the pale canvas of her body. He dreamed of laying on her chest, sweaty and warm with her heat, waiting with baited breath to hear the phantom beat of her heart.

Now, as his hands groped in the darkness, he dreamed that perhaps she would stop him, tell him to leave, and heal on her own, but as he approached the cotton gates protecting her, she didn’t move a muscle. He felt it, the heat of her body, untouched by the winter chill that plagued her flesh-- thank the goddess.

Then, as if his prayers had been answer, she pushed his hand away. Was this his salvation? Did she realize what she was doing at last? He felt her hands push against him and he fell into the desk chair she’d moved out of the way so she could hide away from the world. He looked up at her and it clicked-- this wasn’t her giving up.

He’d agreed to it, he had to let her continue.

He felt her hands fumble with his pants and though every fiber in his body begged him to stop, he reached down to help. His cock had been straining against the fabric of his pants and though he felt defeated as he pulled out his length for her, he felt a sense of relief as he at last could give himself a stroke.

It set his nerves on fire and he took a deep breath before he stroked again, a thin film of sin trickled from the tip. He grimaced and looked up at her, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. He caught a fleeting glimpse of a smile he hoped he could forget and swallowed his own discomfort as he watched her hunch over and remove the panties he’d touched only minutes ago. He watched as she shrugged out of the blanket, donning only a thin black tank top, her lower half left completely exposed for him to enjoy as he pleased.

He bit his lip and stroked his length again. He didn’t want her to need him this way, but as he met her gaze, lavender hidden behind the cover of darkness and grief, he found the hunger in her eyes that he had only dreamed of before-- it left him breathless.

She climbed onto his lap, bare legs brushing against the fabric of his pants that she had forbidden him to remove. He reached a hand to her bare thigh, and gave it a squeeze before he coaxed her closer into his lap. Her legs straddled him like the beast of burden he was and she lowered herself onto him, letting his length slip inside of her. She was wet, but not entirely and he strained a bit feeling her come down on him. She moaned, but laced in her breaths there was pain, and he heard her as fresh tears spilled from her eyes.

He held her hips and pulled her to him, forcing her to grind on his cock. Her hips collided with his and she moaned, gasping for a breath as her throat was wracked by grief. He felt her hands on his shoulder and he heard her mumbled speech as she buried her head into his shoulder, her tear stained cheeks dampening his neck.

“I beg you Dimitri, please. I need— you.” She groaned and strained as she picked up the pace. She lifted her head from his shoulder and she pushed her hair back out of her eyes to better see him. He met her gaze, wide eyes stained by days of crying and heavy with sleep. The wine made her look distant, as if she wasn’t even aware of what was going on. He envied her as he felt her on top of him, his length wedged between the warmth of her legs; it was so real it made him feel sick. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion and the blue circles above her cheeks made her face look sunken in like a corpse.

He was relieved when she broke her gaze to remove her shirt. She reached down and removed the thin black shirt, the fabric clinging to her sweat stained skin. His eyes fell to her breasts now and a wave of relief washed over him. They were full and luscious, round and plump. He felt a deep shame as he eyed her body and his gaze drifted from hers. It was easier to look at her body and admire the curves he’s only dreamed of. Looking into her eyes would mean facing his decision head on, acknowledging that he had given himself up to her for her own personal pleasure that she might feel something other than the grasp of grief.

His hands groped sloppily at her breasts, his fingers grabbing at her skin greedily and without care. Everything was wrong. Every single thing about this night was wrong, but he loved her body, and he loved the feeling of her needing him, no matter how sick he felt.

He heard her moan, but then that sniffle followed. The sound of sadness was like a buzzing he couldn’t silence— a persistent insect that would not leave him alone. It haunted him and he’d had enough of listening to her whimper. He had to put an end to her crying, and needed to leave.

His hands fell from her breasts and he saw the pink fingerprints he’d left on her skin. He’d held her too tight. He had dreamed of holding her like this, her body melded with his as one, but he hadn’t dreamed of marking her with his touch, of leaving bruises dotted on her skin in some feeble attempt to make her feel.

He pushed the thoughts away, the nagging feeling of his own guilt was taking over. He needed to leave and purge himself of this night, but he knew the only way he could be free was to help her finally feel. He swallowed the bile in his throat and blinked his eyes closed as he realized how close he was to the edge.

He shook his head and focused on the feeling of her wrapped around his cock. He burned with anticipation and he knew that despite hating this night, he would remember it. Her breath laced with wine would be in memory, her quivering weak body would haunt his dreams, and his selfish need to finish inside of her would plague his nightmares.

He grimaced and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her naked body to him. He hugged her tightly, unable to bear her sniffling cries any longer.

At least in the end she would feel something.

“No more tears, Professor.” He spoke calmly, assuring her that he would do what she asked of him. “Please.” He swallowed his words as his hands drifted back to her hips, the same haunting chill clung to her skin. “Please stop crying.” He closed his eyes and gently lifted her off of him, feeling as his damp cock felt the cool winter air as she slowly slipped out of him. He moved her with ease; her body felt hollow like the ghost that lingered in her heart. “No more tears.” He whispered, voice shaking as he prepared himself for what he needed to do.

He pulled her hips down and plunged himself inside of her, giving her his full length as he held her down on him. His hips bucked into her, and grabbed at her hips, dotting her skin in pink bruises as his fingers dug into her flesh.

He felt like a beast, holding her down on him, forcing her to feel him in his entirety. Every pump inside of her elicited a moan from her quivering lips and he watched as her breasts bounced as he filled her with his length.

His hands grabbed her rear and he dug his fingers into the plump skin of her ass. He watched her crumble under his force and his hands snaked up her back, forcing her upright as he fucked her and filled her with his pleasure.

She gasped, choking on tears that were forbidden from falling. She looked him in the eyes, her mouth formed a moan and she gasped as a cry barren of sadness escaped her quivering lips.  
He was at his limit, but he’d done it. The tears were gone for now and though he hated needing release in this moment, he couldn’t deny himself his own pleasure. With one pained gasp, he let go and filled her with his seed.

All the tension of the evening was gone in only a few painful spurts. He closed his eyes, unable to look at her as he went limp between her legs.

He swallowed hard and mustered up enough courage to pull her off of him. The empty feeling as he left her body was overwhelming and he shivered at the sudden change of cold air.  
He looked down at her, weak and exhausted. In the darkness he could see the bruises he’d left all over her skin. Her hips were imprinted with his hand and seeing the pink marks on her chest made him feel light-headed and sick.

He shook his head and begged the goddess to make him forget it all, forget the sweet indulgence of her body, and forget what her feverish kisses laced with need tasted like. He wished desperately it had been a dream, that he hadn’t painted her body with greedy finger strokes and filled her with his own pleasure. He begged that maybe this was a nightmare and that he might wake and not smell like sex and desperation, but as Byleth groaned sleepily against him, reality came crashing down.

He carefully pulled her into his arms and lay her on the bed. Her clothes were ripe with grief and as he picked up her discarded shirt he realized it was soaked with tears. He threw it aside and tucked himself back into his pants. He nodded slowly to himself and then took a deep breath before turning to face her.

She looked peaceful, already asleep after likely days of restless nights of crying. He couldn’t look too long, he needed to clean up and get to bed. It was late and even though he felt satisfied, his heart ached with pain.

“Please— sleep well Professor.” He turned away and grabbed the two plates of cake off her desk.

“No more tears.” He muttered as he pulled the door shut, his blue eyes welling with frustration for what he’d done. He’d given her what she wanted and he’d taken so much in the process. He had robbed them of their perfect night, intertwined after hours of exploration and fun. He had taken advantage of her and used her body for his own selfish indulgence.

She had needed him and he had used her.

He slammed his hand into the wall and left a dent in the bricks. Small bits of rubble and stone fell to the ground as Dimitri sunk onto the steps leading to the upstairs dormitories. He blinked his eyes closed-- the haunting image of her eyes was all he saw.

He felt another tug on his stomach. He rose quickly and held himself as he vomited into an empty barrel-- a feeble attempt to purge the nightmare from his thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if you came here for pre TS Dimileth and left with only sadness. ;-;
> 
> Inspired by "Numb after the cause of sorrow" by Karini  
> @Kariniarts


End file.
